365 Days Of Me: January 22, 23, 24, 25, and 26th -- A Bit Of Irony

1.  A FRIENDLY CHAT

For the last few days, I had been having an e-mail/facebook chat war with a woman who is hell bent on saving me.  It began as a simple set of questions about my story of Church Camp, and whether or not that was the turning point that made me into an athiest.  I responded that there was no turning point, but I had to admit that the experience at The Retreat didn't help matters much at all. 

I attempted to be civil about it, but she was having none of it.  

First, she asked me if there was anything positive about The Retreat.  I told her that there was, those few moments that I spent with Gregory.  She then asked me if I even attempted to make friends other than Gregory, and I told her that I hadn't acquired those social skills yet.

I feel that this is when things became a bit ugly.  See, I hadn't realized that I was walking into a trap of sorts, and to be fair, I don't think she realized I had done so until she saw an opportunity to state a point in her favor.  

Recently in an online chat, she asked, "Do you have any Christian friends?"

I responded that I did, in addition to Jewish, Agnostic, Wiccan....

There was a pause, and I imagined that she was trying to formulate what she could say next, an advantage to having delicate conversations over chat.  

"Do your Christian friends seem happy?" she asked.

I told her that for the most part, they did.  

"Why do you think that is?" she asked.  

Without hesitating, I said, "I feel that Christians are happy for the same reason that anyone is happy.  They have found something they can devote themselves to, and this is something that brings them joy.  In the case of Christians, they can devote themselves to their Deity."

There was another pause.  Then she asked, "You don't feel that it is God that makes them happy?"

I sat back in my chair, and this time it was my turn to carefully pick my words.  There are some atheists who amuse themselves with arguing with theists, but I don't.

"Being an athiest, I don't believe that there is a God.  So, I can't say that I feel anything, as to whether or not God makes them happy."

There was more I wanted to add to that, but I knew that would be entering even more dangerous ground.

"Are you happy?" she asked.  This was the question I had been waiting for.

2.  THE GREAT BLUE BEAST

I have been battling anxiety and depression since I was 7 years old.  Having been in therapy for most of my childhood, and I had been on several medications up until I was 20 or so.

When a person battles depression, it's difficult to every say whether or not they are "happy".  Even when things are going well, the depression lurks in your mind like a Great Blue Beast, waiting to shred any positive thinking with a swipe of its sharp talons.  With medication, the Great Blue Beast can be tamed, but even so, it never truly goes away.

It is not easy describing to someone what it is like to constantly have this battle, trying to keep up with life when all you want to do is get back into bed and sleep.  

So when people ask me if I'm happy, I say that I am.  I look at the good things in my life, and I look at the bad, and I put them on a mental scale.  If it weren't for the Great Blue Beast, would I be happy?

I have a husband that I love dearly.  He is patient, he is kind, and he loves me just as much.  We are safe and secure in our house, and we haven't gone hungry.  I have a small circle of good friends, and a huge network of other friends with whom time spent together and distance prevent us from growing as close as we could.

My blood family accepts me for who I am, and recently I have introduced them in person to those I consider my Chosen Family.  As far as I can tell, both faction like each other.

I do things that I love.  Writing, acting cooking, and comedy.  I have been given opportunities to perform both in the background and in the spotlight.  I've recently been asked to assistant direct a show here in town, which will be a new adventure for me.  

I get to travel to some of my favorite cities, although not as much as I would like to.  And when I travel, there is almost always someone there that I can hang out with.

If I want to a bowl of Lucky Charms, I can.  If I want to go a movie, I can do that too.  

The list of things to make me happy is long.  I have no reason to complain.  But there is the Great Blue Beast to contend with, and it isn't always a winning battle.  I wish I could say differently.

So, if someone asks me if I'm happy, I say yes.  The Great Blue Beast might argue, but he doesn't have a voice.  Just the talons.

3.  THE UNSOLICITED PLEA

"Yes, I can say that I'm happy" I said to the one who wishes to save me from my own atheism.  

Another pause, then "I don't think it is possible to be happy without God."

I sighed, hoping it wouldn't come to this.  I had hoped to have a discussion, not an argument, so I pulled the card that I hate, but is my parachute on occasions like this.

"Let's just agree to disagree." I typed.  

"Hear me out, please." she responded, and I sighed again.  That was the last civil card I had.  I had played it too early.

There was a long pause, and the little indicator that she was typing almost smoked with her pending response.

Finally, in several bursts of text, she pleaded her case.  I had to scroll up a couple of times because the text was popping up to quickly for me to follow.  

She said, "Without God, your life doesn't have a direction.  I bet you can't even tell me one thing in your life that gives you a purpose, and even if you could, is it really a purpose that makes you happy?  Or does it make you think you are happy?

I read on your Facebook page that you were an atheist, and I couldn't believe it.  You have Christian values, or so I thought.  And then I read your story about going to that camp, and it all made sense to me.

You were hurt by those people, and it made you turn away from God.  It's sad how things turned out, but if they had only embraced you and helped you when you needed them maybe you would lead the life that God intends for you.

It isn't too late, Will.  It is never too late."

I waited.  I wasn't sure if there was going to be more.  

I had to give her credit, she had good intentions.  Of course, she wasn't saying anything that hadn't been said to me many times before.  The words were different, but the intentions were the same.

"I really do appreciate this, hon," I responded, "But there is nothing wrong with me.  There is nothing wrong with you either.  We just don't agree on this point is all.  Can we just leave it at that?"

The ball was in her court now, and I wasn't really sure how it was going to come back to me.

4.  A CIRCLE OF CHAIRS

Exactly one week after the Youth Minister confronted me the first time, he did so again, this time in the fellowship hall of the church itself.  The Sunday Service was over and he had asked me if I could help him set up chairs for that evenings gathering for the teens who went to the retreat.  Since everyone was so worn out from the retreat the previous Sunday, they decided to wait a week before having a gathering about it.  I wasn't planning on going, since I had been prematurely ejected, but when I was asked to set it up, I didn't mind.  I had been invited, and I turned the invitation down.  That made me feel better about not going.

The Youth Minister kindly gave directions where he wanted the chairs placed, in a huge circle that almost went to each wall of the room.  As we placed chairs, we talked, and since the door was closed, the Youth Minister didn't hold anything back.

"You know, it was kinda rude for you to walk out of my house like that.  We weren't done having a conversation." he said.

I had been unfolding a chair, and I froze.  I had thought the entire thing behind me and here it was back again.

I would have apologized at this point, but I was raised that you never apologized for something if you had no intention of preventing the same thing from happening in the future.  So I said, "I didn't want to talk about it."

After placing down a folding chair, he stood and folded his arms.  His look of disapproval was evident, but for once I didn't feel intimidated.  My fear of confrontation had taken a holiday it seemed. Perhaps it was because confrontation with someone who has authority in a church is different than, say, a school teacher.

"Bill, when people are trying to help you, you should let them." he said, his voice compassionate despite his glare.

A flash of anger suddenly boiled inside me and said, "Yeah?  Well, you shouldn't push people when it's really none of your business!"

It was the first time I had ever stood up to an adult like that.  I hated myself for it.

In that moment, I had imagined him coming over and decking me in the jaw.  Instead, he sighed and looked down and said, "Look, let's start over, 'kay?"

I went over and pulled another chair from the stack leaning against the far wall.  

"Bill, you have a problem, and we can help you.  But you have to let us help you." he said as I put another chair into the circle.  

I looked at him then, and said, "I never asked to be helped."

"Alcoholics and drug addicts rarely asked to be helped either, but that doesn't mean they don't need help."

Walking back over, now determined to finish this project as quickly as possible, I said, "I'm not addicted to anything."

He grunted as if he disagreed, but didn't say anything.

I put my hands on another chair, and I stopped.  I had to think of a way out of this conversation, but I had to do so without giving any opportunities to continue the conversation later.  I wanted it done.

I turned to him and said, "I'm sorry I broke the rules at The Retreat.  And I'm sorry that Todd had to drive all night to take me home.  But that is all that I'm sorry for."

"Apology accepted, but that isn't even the point." the Youth Minister said.

I picked up another chair and said, "What is the point, then?"

"Being....what you think you are displeases God, Bill.  I don't think you understand how serious this is." he said, almost pleading.  

Setting the chair down back in the circle, I said, "You told us that our relationship with God is our own.  I'll worry about displeasing God in my own way."

He stared at me for a moment, incredulous.  Then his face was a mask of controlled fury, so sudden that it was almost comical.

"You act as if this is something you can bargain with God, Bill, and you can't.  You can't have it both ways, you know.  You can't be a Christian and live a sinful lifestyle.  You just can't, those are the rules.  It's in the Bible, and there is no way around it.  You are young, and you think that you can do whatever you want, but the truth is that the things you do now will have dire consequences, in life and in death."

I looked at him, and he seemed much different to me somehow.  He seemed less of the man that everyone lauded, and more of the man who was just like all the others.  Weak and desperate to hold onto the few things in his life he has control over.  

There was so much I wanted to say to him then.  I wanted to tell him that I never really felt like a Christian, but rather, I had hoped that being a part of the church would help me get a circle of friends. That, sadly, wasn't the case.  I was just as alienated at Church as I was at school.

I wanted to tell him that I didn't have a relationship with God like the others did.  I was beginning to question whether or not God even existed, something that I had suspected for quite some time.  Books I had read, things I had seen on televisions, and the thoughts that I let roam free when things were quiet made me question whether or not there was a Diety, and as time moved on, so did my old superstitions. 

I wanted to say all of these things, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.  While it would have ended the conversation for that day, it would burn a bridge that I thought I needed for the time being.

"I just need to think." I finally said, and went back for another chair.  

We continued to work in silence, and eventually the circle was complete, and I left the room without saying a word.

5.  MY TRUE PATH

"I will pray for you, Will."

The message came with a sense of finality that I had expected.  

I put my fingers to the keyboard and responded, "I appreciate it, but it isn't necessary.  I'm fine."

She logged off, and I have yet to hear from her again, or even see her online.  Maybe I've been blocked or something, and that's fine. 

This isn't the first conversation I have had since coming to terms with my atheism, which came about a year after attending the Retreat.  It wasn't the Retreat that made me an atheist, but it did hasten the process which had been cooking for years.  It wasn't the rejection, or the cruelty that did it.  I came to the same crossroads that the other teens did, looking at my life and the path I would take into adulthood.

I'm certain that almost all of the other teens took their bibles and used them to dowse the direction that they took.  I, however, didn't use a bible, but my own nature, my own heart.  When I found that it was leaning in a completely different direction, one full of uncertainty and questions that were impossible to answer, it was, of course, intimidating and scary.

But when I looked down deep into how I truly felt, in that area that I had been taught that God should reside, I found that it was the path I was meant to take.  I wouldn't truly walk down that road for a year.  For me, however, it is an honest road despite it's trials, and I've always been taught that the living an honest life is never easy, and one should always use the adversity to make us stronger.

Ironically, those teachings came from the Church.

Funny that.

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